


Holy Dread

by lorichelle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, HYDRA Trash Party, Kidnapping, M/M, Torture, more tags and characters to potentially be added later, trigger warning: rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorichelle/pseuds/lorichelle
Summary: Clint returns from a mission just in time to witness the disaster of Project Insight over the Potomac. Unable to reach Nat or anyone else, all he can do is watch in horror, hiding in a tree when suddenly, the Winter Soldier appears, coming from the direction of the river, soaked and seemingly injured.Clint recognizes him and they lock eyes but only for a moment before the archer is ambushed by the STRIKE team. The Soldier quickly vanishes, leaving Clint to the mercy of Rumlow and his agents, of which he knew there would be none.His only hope is that Barnes can hear his screams for help as he is dragged away.





	Holy Dread

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at graphic violence and non/con. Please heed the trigger warnings. Comments are welcome and encouraged as well as constructive criticism. Hate will be ignored. 
> 
> *Note - for the sake of this story, especially this first chapter, Rumlow and the STRIKE team were not on site during the launch.

Clint’s hands gripped the branch so tight he heard it crack and his eyes were wide in shock. From his perch in a tree on the other side of the river, he had a front row seat to the destruction of the Triskellion, watching as the trio of hellicarriers slowly crash and fall into the Potomac. And there was nothing he could do.

He had just gotten back stateside when Clint was on his way to headquarters to meet with Fury when he got into a fight with a group of agents in front of the building. He took some out with ease but they had major guns and he knew this was a winless rumble so he turned and fled, fleeing all the way across the banks when the hellicarriers started rising.

Now, a single hellicarrier was one thing but a fleet, deep down beneath SHIELD? And Clint had no doubts that each was loaded with quinjets and artillery for days. And a coordinated, simultaneous launch? He couldn’t even begin to imagine the purpose of this.

He didn’t know what to do. So he did the only thing he always does.

He dialed Natasha but it was disconnected. He tried two of her backups. Nothing.

_Okay?_

He called Agent May. Nothing.

_Okay…_

He tried Agent Hill. Nothing.

_…okay…_

And then he attempted to reach fury. Nothing.

_Okay… this looks bad._

Then his phone pinged suddenly and he nearly fell out of the damn tree. He tried not to tremble nervously as his fingers swiped over the screen and his blood ran cold when he saw all of the intel – literally, ALL of it – trending everywhere all over the internet.

“Nat…” he gasped. “What are you doing?”

So many files, so many names, so many dollar signs, so many secrets, including his own… SHIELD, HYDRA.

HYDRA…

His hands shook.

Of fucking course.

He prayed it wasn’t as bad as he knew it probably was. But as he watched one of the hellicarriers slice through the Triskellion, Clint knew this was just the beginning of something bad. He had no idea who was still alive, if anyone. Except himself in this fucking tree, helpless.

His phone slipped from his shaking fingers and fell to the ground. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

But a rustle in the bushes below caught his attention and his eyes fell on someone emerging from the thick brush and Clint gasped. It took the archer a minute to take in the person’s appearance. First off, the man was completely soaked and judging from the direction he came, he must have come from the river. He was tall and in full combat gear, although he was cradling his right arm to his chest, possibly injured, and his long hair was matted and dripped heavily onto his metal arm –

Wait…

Clint watched silently as the man turned to his own view of the carnage before them and it gave Clint a chance to observe the man.

He couldn’t believe it. It was the goddamn Winter Soldier.

Fuck, it really was HYDRA.

Suddenly, there was an ominous crack beneath his foot and the branch he was balanced on broke and he crashed to the ground, landing hard on his stomach with a pained grunt as the wind was knocked out of him. He gasped and cried out, trying to get air back into his lungs. He coughed as he breathed in dirt in the process and his chin hurt from where it hit the ground on impact.

Once his lungs flexed with oxygen, he fought through the pain in his chest and raised his head to find the Winter Soldier staring right down at him, eyes wide with shock and a bit of wild surprise and… confusion?

_Guess that makes two of us._

But as they stared at one another, the features on the Soldier’s face sparked a memory in Clint’s mind, flashes of a face he’d seen before; sharp blue eyes, strong jaw, bowed lips… but it couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible; all those years of reading history books and visiting the museum...

Holy shit, he knew that face anywhere.

He blinked a few times and struggled to speak to the man.

“Barnes?”

The Soldier’s eyes widened comically and the way the confusion instantly switched to terror, Clint knew he was right.

“Barnes…”

Suddenly, Barnes’ head snapped up, eyes flashing at something behind Clint and in the blink of an eye, he turned and was gone.

“Wait!” Clint called after him, moving his hand to push himself up when there was movement behind him and then a boot shoved his head into the ground, smashing his face into the dirt. He groaned in pain, his busted chin digging into the leaves.

“Ha ha ha! What do we have here? Did the little hawk fall from his nest?”

That voice. Clint turned his head as much as he could from under the combat boot and anger flared up in him immediately.

“Rumlow,” he growled.

The agent leaned down into his view and a grin twisted his features, eyes cold.

“Surprised to see me, Barton? Yeah, I’m sure you are, just like how surprised you are at the sight over there. Front row seat and everything!”

The boot released him but before Clint could roll over to fight, Rumlow sat heavily on his thighs and grabbed his arms, twisting them both and pulling them back.

“What’s wrong little hawk?” He tugged hard on Clint’s left arm and his shoulder popped, making the archer scream. “Did you break a wing?”

And without warning, Rumlow pulled on his right arm and Clint screamed again. “Or two?”

Clint heard barks of laughter behind him and of course Rumlow had the rest of the STRIKE team with him. The agony of having both his shoulders dislocated at the same time made his vision blurry. Closing his eyes, his breath came in deep, brief gasps.

“Let’s see him try to flap away now…”

Hopping to his feet, legs on either side of Clint, Rumlow reached up under his arms and roughly lifted him to his feet, the archer barely able to stand upright. From behind, Rumlow held tight to him and breathed in his ear.

“Oh, you’ll flap around alright – a flailing, useless bird on a silver platter for us.”

He roughly turned the archer around and Clint spat a few leaves out of his mouth in Rumlow’s face.

The agent blinked and simply smirked, a slow and dark seam across his face. Rumlow ignored him and nodded to the other agents, then backing away but before Clint had anything else to say, he was hit across the back of the head, bright light behind his eyes and he groaned, his vision clearing just in time to see another fist coming at him. And Clint’s world went white again as he felt blood pour from his nose.

The archer felt two others move behind him, a pair of punches to both his kidneys and his knees buckled as he cried out.

Both his injured arms were held back as he dangled and shook there in agony. Clint counted five, including Rumlow, a hit from each.

“Is this your initiation?” Clint spat, blood spraying onto Rumlow’s boot as the other crouched to meet the archer’s eyes, a dark shadow clouding his face as he spoke low.

“Just you wait, little hawk.”

He then stood and with a sudden kick to his stomach, Clint was kissing dirt again, twigs pressing against his face. He felt his feet being lifted and then he was being dragged, his arms scrapping uselessly alongside him.

Clint was barely able to lift his head in time to see Barnes’ face peering between the trees. Their eyes locked and finally, the fear set in and Clint cried out to him, not caring about his desperation. “Help me!”

But a blindfold took the Soldier from Clint’s view and then another blast of pain in his head and he knew no more.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr!](http://somnambulist-x.tumblr.com/)


End file.
